Separation Anxiety
by roxi1013
Summary: A short separation precedes change in the Sentinel/Guide relationship


"Can we talk

"Can we talk?"

Jim hid his relief at those words. Something had been bothering Blair all week, and he wasn't good at patience.

"Sure, Chief, let me hit the bathroom, and I'll meet you at the couch."

Jim washed up and mentally prepared himself for whatever came. The only way he'd kept calm the last few days was the instinct that Blair's problem, while important, wasn't life threatening. He hoped now he'd get an explanation for the past few days. Blair had been unusually quiet and reflective, and the Sentinel notebooks had reappeared. "Remember to let Sandburg set the pace; he'll eventually get to his point," Jim told his reflection.

"Okay, what's up?" Jim opened the beer waiting on the coffee table and settled down to listen.

Blair sat quietly for several long moments and finally took a deep breath.

"You know how you told me a while back that you'd eventually end up dead or insane if you found yourself alone?" He continued at Jim's nod. "When you got back from San Francisco last week were your senses wonky?"

Several weeks ago, Jim had arrested a drug dealer wanted in California and last week had been required to testify at the trial. The Cascade Department decided that since California was footing the bill for the trip, this would be the perfect way to get their detective there for an upcoming Law Enforcement symposium. Since Blair had been sick during the original arrest, and was not needed at the trial, the accountants wouldn't spring for an extra ticket. Therefore, Jim had flown to San Francisco on Monday, spent the next three days in court, attended the symposium and finally returned to Cascade Sunday afternoon.

"Yeah, they were pretty messed up by Sunday. Why?"

"Stop me if I'm wrong about this, but you came home Sunday, pulled me over to the couch and decided we needed to watch the Lethal Weapon marathon that was on that night. You were using my presence to reset your senses weren't you?"

Jim reddened as he remembered that night. He had pulled Blair right next to him and rested his arm along the back of the couch at his shoulders. It wasn't "quite" cuddling, but a stranger peeking in could have been forgiven for thinking it was.

"Yes, Chief," Jim whispered, refusing to meet Blair's eyes. "My control was about shot by then."

"It's okay, Jim; I was kinda expecting it all week." Jim's tension eased slightly. "But we've never really detailed it. How, exactly, do I help you?"

Jim breathed deeply and leaned into the couch. "I don't know if I can explain it easily. When we're separated I have to put more conscious effort into maintaining the dials. The longer the separation, the more effort it takes. Eventually, I can't keep it up and everything goes haywire. I get monster headaches and rashes. If the separation lasted long enough, I think I'd go crazy, or eat my gun. When we're together, the control comes from you somehow. I have no idea how; I just know I don't have to work at it so much."

"I knew that week would be tough so I packed your blue shirt in with my things. By the time I unpacked, your scent was all over my clothes; I threw it over a chair and let it tinge the room. Talking to you every night helped too. It didn't stop the downward spiral, just delayed it."

Jim, again, was embarrassed by his admission. Besides, he was asking another man to be his security blanket. Blair was tied to him tighter than even a wife. A permanent separation, no matter the reason, would spell death for Jim. Normal humans didn't act like this. He'd **known** the truth of it for years, but as long as he didn't talk about it he'd been able to pretend.

Blair's continued silence brought Jim's face around. He dreaded the disgust and dismay he knew he'd see. "Look, I know it's hardly fair . . ." He stopped. Tears stood in Blair's eyes and he whispered in shock, dropping his gaze. "Oh, man."

As the silence lengthened, Jim squeezed his shoulder. "Help me out here, Blair, as unfair as it is to you, I don't think it's what's been bothering you lately. We both pretty much knew the score, even if we never talked about it. What's caused the return of the grad student?"

Several more seconds passed before Blair wiped his eyes and looked up. "You're right, Jim, I know you need me permanently; I just didn't know the reverse was true; at least not in the same way."

"What exactly do you mean?"

A deep breath.

"Okay, I knew that week would be hard on you. And I expected a reaction when you got home. I just didn't know I'd have the same problem."

At Jim's look of confusion Blair continued.

"It seems that nature decreed it unfair that the Sentinel be dependent on his Guide for survival and decided to even things out. Apparently, the Guide needs the Sentinel as well."

Jim's gut clenched at the words. While he didn't understand the method, it seemed he had ruined Blair's life yet another way. His eyes slid shut on the tears forming. "I'm so sorry, Chief; I wish—" He stopped when Blair smacked him in the shoulder.

"Get off the guilt trip. This is hardly your fault. As I recall, I begged you to let me test you, and I begged you to let me stay here. Neither of us expected what followed, but I, for one, am not sorry we met. Are you?"

"No, Darwin, never sorry. Just, well..." Jim sighed, unable to complete the thought.

"Look, I know our lives aren't exactly normal, and there have been a few things I could have done without. Lash springs to mind, or the trouble with Golden, but if missing out on those horrors meant never having met you, I wouldn't trade them for the world…ever."

Blair put his hand on Jim's shoulder. "I didn't bring all this up to make you feel guilty. I don't resent you, what's happened to my life or what being a Guide means. I just discovered something while you were gone that we need to discuss, and I don't think you're going to be very comfortable with it."

Jim took a long pull on the beer and forced himself to relax. Trying to lighten the mood, he grinned. "Since when has that stopped you?"

"Not often." Blair ducked the head swipe and settled in for the explanation.

Jim realized they'd arrived at the point of this whole exercise and focused his attention on Blair.

"That week you were gone was a nightmare for me. Joel was sick and Megan had food poisoning so I was partnered with Detective Foster. You know he doesn't like me much. Don't get me wrong; he was polite enough and did his job fine. Just, well, the underlying ice was tough to deal with constantly. By Wednesday, we got tagged for a stakeout, covering for Joel and Megan, and spent most of the day stuck in the car.

You know stakeouts are boring enough at the best of times, but hours on end without any discussion was awful. By Friday, the headache I'd had pretty much all week reached killer proportions. Instead of vegging on Saturday, I got called in because some nutcase had holed himself up in a convenience store. He'd forced everyone out, and they wanted me to try to talk him down. By the end of it I couldn't see straight; some patrol car drove me home.

The week itself wasn't so bad; I think it was the emotional stress. I noticed whenever I could spend significant time with H or Rafe the headache eased somewhat. And when you and I talked each night it eased more, but it never went away entirely. I didn't leave the loft on Sunday – it was just too much to deal with. I was in a holding pattern all day waiting for you to get home. That night I realized I was using you to center myself the same way you were using me."

Jim sat for a long time staring at the empty bottle. "So what are you saying? I protect you from emotional stress and turmoil?"

"Kind of, yeah. Looking back, it's been happening for a while; I just never put it together. We're so infrequently separated for any length of time that I never connected my headaches to it."

Jim studied Blair intently, opening his senses to detect the smallest detail. He noticed slight pain lines between his eyes and an elevated temperature. It was only a couple of tenths of a degree, but it was definitely higher than normal.

"Okay, out with the rest of it. I can hardly complain if you use me the same way I use you so what is it you think I'll have a problem with? I can tell you're in pain right now; is it related?"

"That headache I had last week never disappeared completely. It's nowhere near as bad, but it's still there."

"Why?"

"I think we didn't finish Sunday."

"Finish what? For someone who can expound for days on the ills of Wonderburger you've suddenly become very quiet. I'll deal with it; whatever **it** is."

"This is just a theory, but what if there's a process that lets us ground each other? You're used to doing it and knew what you needed so you finished before I did."

"It would make sense; you think you need to finish grounding yourself?"

"That's the theory."

"How do you do that? I don't consciously do anything."

"I'm not sure."

"But you have a guess?" Blair always had a guess, suggestion or theory about all things Sentinel. For someone without any real training who made things up on the fly, the guesses were usually right too.

Blair didn't answer immediately.

"This is the part I'm going to be uncomfortable with, right?"

"I think we should focus on each other and let instinct take over."

Jim nodded and sat back into the corner of the couch. He turned slightly to Blair who was sitting Indian-style sideways on the couch facing Jim. Blair scooted closer and Jim reached out to rest his hand on Blair's face. He consciously focused closely on the skin's texture beneath his hand, stroking it a little. He inhaled deeply and let his Guide's scent fill his nose while his hearing focused on the ever-present heartbeat. For several minutes he sat quietly and let Blair's essence surround him on all levels.

Blair, for his part, closed his eyes and pictured Jim; he focused on all the feelings surrounding him when he was with Jim; safety, happiness, contentment and love. He let the peace wash over him quietly.

After some time, they were breathing deeply and in tandem. After several more minutes, Jim reached over and tugged Blair closer. Wanting more access, he pulled Blair around so he was close against his side. Snuggling against the Sentinel, Blair turned his face to Jim's neck and relaxed against the strong chest. Jim rubbed his Guide's shoulder and arm, drowning in the essence that was Blair.

Jim woke hours later feeling more relaxed then he had for ages. Easing himself off the couch, he settled a throw over Blair and studied him carefully. The pain lines were gone from his eyes and his temperature was back to normal. Whatever it was, it had worked well.

Jim headed for the kitchen intent on finding food. He made a couple of sandwiches and returned to the couch; flicking on the TV, he found an old movie and turned the sound down to Sentinel level.

An hour later his subconscious informed him Blair was waking. He returned to the kitchen and made another two sandwiches; setting them by Blair before his Guide was fully awake.

Blair sat up; yawning, and rubbing his eyes. His stomach grumbled in protest just as he spied the sandwiches. He grabbed one and finally looked up at Jim.

"Feel better now?" Jim asked.

"Much, the headache's completely gone, and I haven't felt this relaxed in weeks. Thanks for letting me, uh, bond?"

"That's as good a word as any, but you don't ever need to thank me for it."

"But I was the one who needed it; your senses were fine."

Jim shook his head slightly. Blair could take guilt trips almost as well as he could, usually over something totally insignificant too.

Blair thought he was the unimportant one in the Sentinel/Guide relationship and Jim took every opportunity to reinforce just how valuable he was. After the dual fiascos of Alex Barnes and the dissertation, Blair was insecure and hesitant, and his self-esteem was non-existent. Jim knew the blame rested solely on his shoulders and something had to change.

Putting aside his ingrained reticence and stoic machismo took determination, but Jim knew words wouldn't cut it, although he had profusely apologized and vowed to change. Blair had forgiven, but subconsciously, Jim knew, he was waiting for the next attack. Only actions would convince Blair that Jim meant it. One of the first steps was to stop fighting whenever Blair wanted to discuss Sentinel weirdness. If this had happened before Alex, Blair would have waited until he was well and truly miserable before even attempting to bring it up. Jim shuddered to think about the pain Blair would have suffered in silence until he finally agreed to listen.

"Blair, hear this well. It doesn't matter which of us needed it. You don't complain when I need your presence; why should it bother me when you need mine?"

"Besides, I learned something. While I may not have 'needed' it like you did, it was incredible all the same. I'm calmer and more relaxed, and my senses are sharper than ever. I think it helps focus both of us. That whole exercise seems to be mildly addictive, and I plan to repeat it on a fairly regular basis, so you might as well get used to it. But it wouldn't matter if it weren't. You have given plenty, big and small, to this partnership over the years. It's my privilege to help you because that's what partners and friends do."

During this recitation, Blair had finished the second sandwich and sat quietly, looking down, as if unable to face Jim.

"I, uh... " Blair stuttered incoherently before giving up.

Something flared in Jim as the Sentinel reacted to his Guide's dismay. Acting solely on instinct, Jim sat down next to Blair and pulled him in close against his side once more then opened his senses wide.

Blair resisted at first then relaxed. This time they remained wide-awake and conscious of the invisible cord that wound through and round them.

"This could cause problems if it happens in the bullpen," Blair said with a smirk a short time later, still resting against Jim's side.

"They already think we're weird enough to ignore pretty much anything."

"Seriously, is this going to happen a lot?"

"Well, everything else in the Sentinel universe requires lots of practice and tests." Jim's voice faded almost completely on the last word.

"So you think it will settle down, like newlyweds who can't keep their hands off each other?"

"As embarrassing as that analogy is, it's probably pretty accurate."

"Well, considering I'm sitting all curled up against you and don't seem to mind at all, we may want to take some time off work."

"I'll talk to Simon tomorrow and see if we can take a long weekend. We'll just need to 'keep our hands to ourselves' until then."

"I'll try." Blair laughed in a way that showed he noticed who had started the physical part each time.

"Very funny, Chief. I think I'm going to bed."

Blair took his plate to the kitchen and headed to his apartment next door and Jim checked the doors and windows before heading upstairs. Moments later it was dark as both men settled into their respective beds.

oOo

Thirty minutes later Blair gave up. The pull next door was too much to ignore; besides, the restless movement he could hear in the kitchen indicated Jim was having the same problem.

Heading back, he looked at Jim, who studiously ignored him for several seconds.

"Newlyweds, huh, Sandburg?"

"Seems like."

"If we want to get any sleep tonight..." Jim left the sentence hanging as Blair headed up Jim's stairs.

As the bond swirled around them, Blair mumbled against Jim's chest. "This better settle down –or it will cause serious damage to the marriage I intend to have someday."

"I'm sure it will." Jim laughed. "But for now, let's get some sleep."


End file.
